A couple of weeks ago, on a Thursday afternoon that happened to be my Friday, I got a Facebook message from someone I assumed I didn't know.
I did, of course, but only by her meaningless-to-me Twitter user name. More importantly, she is my patron saint of writing, performing and publicity.

4/28. Uncommon Ground @ Devon. It's a CHIRP benefit. The inaugural theme will literally be "The First Time ... (you had sex)." You write a 5-7 min non-fiction/fiction piece that has ties to, references or can be accompanied by a song/artist.
Live band plays said song/artist after you read. Are you interested? The first one will be Margaret Hicks, Scott Smith, Leah Jones, Steve Frisbie, Rebecca Langguth, Karen Louis, and ..... (maybe me). ..... let me know ..... I'd love to have you.

What.
What.
What.
What.

Did this stranger just ask me to get up in front of a bunch of people and talk about losing my virginity?
Revisit one of my most private moments, describe it in crystalline, possibly agonizing detail to a roomful of strangers?

Hell yes, she did.
And I agreed.
(I mean. Of COURSE I agreed.)

Let's talk about a big WTF moment. Big performance anxiety.
And I thought at first that I could just pull out the LiveJournal entry I wrote after it happened, spruce it up and get on stage to do my thing. Impress everyone, including the literary agent, shrouded in shadow at the back of the room, get my book deal and live happily after.
But looking back…it would seem there are about three paragraphs in the old blog.
There was a bit of talk about first times — and all the nonsense leading up to it — in that sorry excuse for a novel I started last October, but even that is just a crumbling bit of foundation for what needs to be there.
So it's time to get writing.
I don't know how many words add up to five to seven minutes of speech, and I still don't know which song I'll choose to come after me. Though I'm toying with a Britney Spears number.

Baby's first reading. At long last.
One Yelper, after reading the event description I posted, left a comment. "So, this will be a collection of short stories, then?"
Here. Read about it yourself, won't you? If you're in Chicago, please come. I mean attend.
Let's talk about sex.